


" I'm alive; ahah, fuck. "

by GlassEater_Central



Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Darkiplier Mark Fischbach, No Romance, No Smut, Short, i think its pretty good but i haven been able to update for a while so just go along with it, just check it out!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassEater_Central/pseuds/GlassEater_Central
Summary: Hey, you. Yes; you. Are you scrolling through the Darkiplier tag desperately looking for a fic with no romance? Well I have just the thing.This fic has: horror, slice of life, and a whole bunch of other stuff that I can't list right now! But get in here and enjoy yourself anyway.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ha good luck even I don't know how this fic is gonna end.

You made this place for broken things.

But some things can't be fixed.

You woke up in a familiar place. A place that you thought you might never have to see again. But you're back.

You stand up shakily and try to make sense of your surroundings. From what you remember, this place is dangerous at best. You look forward at the door, and wonder if you could run. No, you shake your head. There's no point in running, you tell yourself. He'd find you.

You walk towards the door, and you open it. The memories come back. Damien, the Colonel, and even Mark, despite what he did. You shudder at what happened to all them. It was much pleasanter to think of old times than tragedy, before that night where he died.

You hear a voice, a voice that shakes the bones of the house. A voice you recognize instantly.

"Reminiscing aside, I've just got to know why you keep running." You look around. Where is he? You turn, and see him walking slowly down the stairs. The same stairs he walked down, so long ago.

"Running from your problems, your past," he drank... Something out of the wine glass he held in front of him. "And me." He drained his glass, and reached the bottom of the stairs. Something changes in his face, it looks softer and caring. 

"Why would you run from me?" He asked, with tears welling up. "I've missed you so much." You shake your head. It's not him, you tell yourself, it looks like Damien but it's not. You look that thing disguised as your friend in the eyes. 

"I don't care how much you cry. I won't help you." 

Any kindness that was left in his face dissolved. Somehow he's there, he's on you, holding you in the air by your shirt. His eyes are wide open, and they bore into yours with anger and hurt.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to be stuck here?" He snaps, shaking you in the air. "He left me in here to rot with her, and we survived on scraps." Suddenly, everything about him becomes more sharp. He stops shaking you, and drops you abruptly. He stares at you collapsed on the ground, and grins with a smile that does not reach his eyes. 

"You're about to find out." With that, he simply turns and walks towards the door, leaving you. The broken thing that can't be fixed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good luck love you all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a continuation of the first chapter, Also double upload yippee the discord server will go nuts.

After what feels like forever, you gather your strength and stand shakily on your feet. 

You bolt to the door, turn the doorknob and push, but it doesn't open. Through the glass you can see that monster walking away, leaving you. When he hears you banging on the door he turned, gave you another mirthless smile, and waved.

That one simple action does something to you, gets into your head somehow. You scream and yell at that door for so long that your voice completely goes, and after that you cry until you pass out from exhaustion.

Eventually, you wake up. You can't die here; if you could, He would have killed you when you first walked through that door. 

You stand. You don't know how long you've been here, but you figure sooner or later you'll need to eat or at least sleep on a real bed. To your right, the stairs where He greeted you on your last trip here. To your front, the living room. You gulp, and go forward. 

Walking through this house, it's hard not to think about the memories it holds. The most obvious one is His murder, but there are others. Others, from before everything went downhill. Damien becoming Mayor. Mark finally winning his fortune. 

While walking, you see one of the many portraits Mark had of Himself. You stop in front of it, and frown at the piece. He was standing in it, and whoever painted it made his eyes look as though they followed you wherever you went. It comes back into your mind, how he let Damien and Celine get killed just for his own gain, how he let William go insane in the aftermath of what he did.

A sound comes out of your throat that can only be described as a growl as you rip the piece of art off the wall and stomp it, as though you were stomping those eyes.

You stare at the broken picture frame, into those cruel painted eyes; and somewhere in a broken theater, He narrows his eyes and grips His wine glass a little tighter.


	3. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gay  
> Not fuñy, did laugh.

You stumble through the darkness. Eventually, you think, there's got to be something. A wall, furniture, a light switch, even just some sort of breeze so you know you're not just trapped in an empty void that swallowed you whole along with the one person you care about.

You don't even know how long you've been down here, just putting one foot in front of the other, searching for Damien. Not Damien, Dark. You have to keep reminding yourself he's not himself anymore. 

You step in something. You gulp. There's no light down here, and you doubt even if there was, this wouldn't be anything you'd want to see. 

You keep walking, groping in the darkness.

He's not supposed to be like that. You still see his body with two souls, and something else, forced into one body slowly ripping itself apart. You grit you teeth and ball your fists at the thought. 

He did it. Mark, he did it. That awful man, invited us all back to that house and stuck himself in limbo so he could live forever, at the cost of Damien and Celiene's lives. You all thought it was a murder of some sort, that someone had killed him.

It was so much worse. He threw his soul out of his body and made all of you hunt around to distract you from what was really happening. Makes sense for him, he is an actor, after all. And aren't actors masters of hiding the truth from an audience?

Well, maybe in this case, an audience that was bound and gagged with a blindfold over their eyes. No matter. You have to find Dark, and hopefully help him somehow. You have no clue of course, what you're going to do, but you hope he's alright.

Your throat is hoarse from yelling his name so much.

There's a light in the distance. Your eyes widen, and you start running. You get closer and you see the shadow of a person, you get closer and you see the suit, closer still and you see the cane, finally, you're standing five feet away and you see the sickly red and blue outline that signifies he's no longer himself. He's turned away from you.

You stop running. You take everything about him in, he's just like you remember.

"Dami- Dark?" You say, your voice torn to shreds from yelling for him. He turns his head a little bit, sees you, and his face lights up. He goes towards you with his arms extended.

"It's you! You're here!" He wraps his arms around you in the most comforting hug you've had in your life. You sink into his arms, you've been walking for days, looking for him. Suddenly, he stiffens, snaps his arms away from you, and turns away. "You never should have come here." He says in a much worse voice, one that sounds like breaking glass. It's a voice you recognize.

"Celine?" You look closer at his face and see nothing but her, the way her eyebrows creased when she got upset, her signature frown.

"Yes... No." He sighs and puts his hands on your shoulders, looking you in your eyes. "It's so hard to tell one from the other now. I'm- we're all over the place." All traces of Celine melt from his face, and it goes back to Damien, your friend, the mayor, the only truly innocent one in this.

But then you see something. Something that tips you off. His eyes. Damien's eyes don't have a cruel glint. They aren't bottomless pits that consume every bit of light that dares go near. It's him. 

He sees your reaction, and takes his hands off his shoulders. It's him it's him it's him it's him it's him it's him. He throws off the presence of Damien and Celine like you'd throw off a coat after coming inside. He brings his hands together in a slow applause.

"Congratulations." He droned. "You figured it out much faster than last time." Last time? You can't think, all you can do is stand petrified in front of Him. He leans in close to your face, and smiles a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"From the top, with feeling this time."

You stumble through the darkness. Eventually, you think, you have to find something.


	4. A new way of seeing things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of my friends told me one of her biggest fears is looking in the mirror to find someone else's face. Y'all have her to thank for this episode.

It's a normal day, thank God for that. You're in the kitchen, with a cup of tea. It's overcast outside, but you're just fine with that. That only means you get to stay in and watch everyone scurry around on the ground like ants on your day off, instead of having to go somewhere. 

You open the fridge, and assess your options. Leftover oatmeal, eggs, and cereal. You opt for the oatmeal, and heat it up with some honey and milk. You eat at your desk, next to your bed, and stare out your window. People look so small from up here, all moving and going places, and you sit and watch. You wonder what they all have to do today, what errands they have to run and jobs they have to go to. You loose track of time thinking about what they're probably doing, and realise you haven't brushed your hair or teeth. 

You go to the bathroom; it's a small apartment and a short walk. You pick up your toothbrush and put toothpaste on it, and turn your head up and make eye contact with your reflection.

And it's not yours.

The face you see isnt yours. And you cant tell what's wrong. All the big things are the same. Your hair is the same color and length. Your eyes are the same shape. You're still wearing your favorite pajamas; but something isn't right. You set down the toothbrush and lean closer to the mirror to see what's wrong. The face changes subtly and it looks like you again. 

You squint and look at yourself trying to figure out what shifted, but ten minutes of close inspection turns up no results, so you brush your teeth and hair and go back to your day; trying not to think about what happened.

Hoping it doesn't happen again.

You go through the rest of the day mostly wrapped in quarantine activities; checking on your sourdough starter, making sure your plants don't die, and things like that. It's 9:30 sooner than you realize, and you decide you should probably shower before you scroll social media for three hours. 

You're at the door, and you remember what happened this morning. You take a deep breath, it's fine, you tell yourself. It's just the quarantine getting to you. You turn the doorknob, and step into the bathroom. You turn your face away from the mirror, and shut your eyes. You don't want to look, you can't. 

But you have to, says a small part of your brain. Don't you want to know? Don't you want to see it? All right, you think. One look. One small look can't hurt. You clench your fists, and look. You breathe a sigh of relief; it's completely normal. You begin to walk over to the shower, so full of relief, and you see a movement out of the corner of your eye. No, it's normal, you tell yourself. I'll prove it, I'll look again. So you do. And it is.

But then it isn't, and it happens so fast you don't even know what's happened. It happens so fast that you stumble back away and hit the wall, locking eyes with the man who's supposed to be your reflection. He's smiling. This little detail catches you so off guard that you freeze for a second, just looking at his monochromatic face. 

The mirror shatters, and you snap back into danger mode. You fling open the bathroom door, and run down your hall to the front door that leads to stairs to outside. You know you won't make it, but you can try. All you can hear is him laughing, mocking your feeble escape attempts. You're almost there, it's a small apartment, thank God, and your hand almost grabbed the knob. 

And then you're in darkness, with hundreds of front doors surrounding you. You hear him say, from high above,

"Good luck". He chuckles, and you stare at nothing in particular. 

You'll be here a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I'm sorry but that's showbiz babey


	5. All the World's A Stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's finally getting beat up and tbh this is the most fun I've ever had writing a chapter

He sat and stared at the cheap and crumbling walls of the theater. Nothing had really changed since he was last here, there was still trash and dirt everywhere and it was obvious that nobody was going to be coming here for a while. So he sat in that stupid chair in the middle of the stage and waited.

He waited for a long time. If he was being honest, he waited for longer than he had to. Making sure you’re ready for your long time nemesis to burst through the door doesn’t take that long. But he’d waited for long enough, and you finally burst through the door with a bat in your hand.

I’m pretty sure he had some sort of monologue planned, but you weren’t interested in that and stomped down the aisle and before he knew it you were standing above him with his life in your hands.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t bash your head in.” You growled at him. His mouth opened and closed and he couldn’t think of anything soon enough. You swung directly at his face.

Soon enough he opened his eyes again, and he sat down in the chair. This time, he said to himself, this time things will be different. There wasn’t much in this shabby building that he could use to enhance his performance, but he figured he could do something.

When you kicked that door down this time, he wasn’t sitting in it. All the lights were off, and you couldn’t see anything. A rusty spotlight swiveled and shone on the empty chair. You immediately looked up, searching for him. You knew he was up there; you could hear him as clear as day. 

“All that trouble for me?” You could hear his voice echo all throughout the room, where was he? “I’m flattered, really, but you don’t have to go to all this trouble just for me.” Your teeth ground together, you wanted nothing more than to smash him to bits and pieces.

“Where are you! Stop hiding from me, you two-bit actor!” You barked at the darkness. He grinned to himself, you really had no idea where he was. He leaned over the railing at looked at you from above, and his grin dropped when he saw your weapon. You looked him directly in the eyes, took aim, and fired directly at his head.

This went on for some time. The weapon you brought would differ and always seemed to be suited to whatever preparations he made. When he planned to simply stand on the stage and speak, you’d charge at him with your bat. When he planned to taunt you from above, you’d bring something long-range. Until one cycle when he finally got a word in before you ended him.

“Stop!” His voice rang out through the walls and finally, you paused. You didn't train the barrel away from his forehead, but you stopped. “Don’t you know what’s happening? Don't you remember?” You squinted at him and cocked the gun.

“Keep talking.” You said. “No tricks.”

“No tricks,” he replied and held up his hands in surrender. “Haven’t you realized what’s happening by now? We’re stuck. They’ve stuck you in this loop as punishment for both of us. Can’t we work together on this?” You grimaced. He didn't know how, but when you spoke next you were on him, with the barrel digging into his neck. You went off script with your next lines.

“I know exactly what’s happening. Even if I wanted to leave, I’d never work with a scumbag like you!” Your voice got louder, and you were roaring at the end of your line. His eyes saw what nobody else would have seen; that tiny red outline. Even with a gun to his neck, he managed a little laugh.

“Celine? Is that you?” Instead of that idiotic pleading look he had before, he had on a mocking expression. He was showing his true colors, and you knew that this wasn’t a show. “I hope you can forgive me for when I left you in the rain.”

“You know this isn’t about that, and I’m not Celine.” For once, you were the one wearing a smart grin, and he was the one shocked. “I’m here to make sure you never know peace again. I came in here of my own free will.” He looked all over your face, looking for where the lie was, but he couldn’t find it. It wasn’t there.

“You’ll never be able to hurt anyone, ever again.” You fired the gun.


	6. Mourning is for the dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How about we haunt the man hm? And maybe check in on the others.

You spent a lot of time in there. I would say you were biding your time, but I know what you were really doing.

Suffering.

That place is terrible when you first get there. Your body is gone and every inch of your skin demands the coverage and safety of a body, but there is no relief. Thank goodness you can't die in there, or else you would have. 

It takes a while to get accustomed to the pain that comes with being stuck in there. I saw you, for the first few months all you could do was stand there. But you started moving around. Pretty soon you learned you could move to any mirror in the house. Then any mirror that you wanted. You got the hang of it faster than anyone else I had ever seen.

He started to notice you. Every time you saw him you would just stand there. Not even doing anything, just staring directly into his eyes for as long as he was in the room. Lucky for you, Mark liked the look of his own face and owned quite a few mirrors.

You watched him for about a month.

You started to move closer. Everytime he saw you, you would be closer to him, and you would stare into his eyes, never even moving. You knew he wouldn't do anything. You could see his eyes flick towards you, and then snap back to something else.

He spread the story that someone in the family had died, and he covered all the mirrors in a thick black cloth. It did nothing.

Despite the fabric, he could still feel your eyes getting closer and closer every day, every time he walked into a different room. 

It had been a year since he spread the rumor. The butler eventually pulled down all the fabric from the mirror, saying that it was in Mark's best interest to stop mourning the dead relative. He couldn't see you.

He now had no excuse. He had to see those awful eyes again. 

He hated those eyes. He couldn't look away from them at all, they pierced his skin wherever they landed. He walked into the bathroom, and for the first time, looked at you.

"What is it that you want?" He snapped. "I have put up with you for too long. I should come in there and- and kill you again!" His breath came fast and heavy. "Well? Anything to say?" 

Your eyes bored into his. Your face had changed so much since he saw you last. You looked like you had lost weight that you couldn't afford to loose, and you had lost teeth and hair. 

You said nothing.

"You had better say something right now or I'll... Or.." he trailed off. You both knew that he wouldn't do anything. Then he did something you didn't expect. 

He raised his arms and let some ugly noise come out of his throat. He smashed the mirror with his hands and he was screaming now, his lungs were empty but he was still screaming. You were still there, he could still feel your eyes looking into his soul and holding him accountable.

He kept beating the shards of glass, but your face just kept multiplying. The shards got so small that every shard was an eye and every single one dug into his skin. 

The manor was silent after that.


End file.
